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After inciting the mini riot, we’d led the soldiers pursuing us on an exhilarating chase through the crowd still booing and jeering at them, but we’d soon reached the edge of the throng and lost our cover. Parvan had drawn his sword, pushed me behind him and muttered something stupid about me running andsaving myself,and then had held out admirably well against dozens of soldiers without killing a single one of them. It was inevitable that he’d eventually been overwhelmed by their numbers and we’d been pushed to our knees before the glowering senior officers, but what Ihadn’texpected was to recognise the man assigned to lead the unskilled, quavering group of men to their deaths at the border: the slimy leech Lord Pablo Martinez.
While I’d most recently encountered him being his usual abusive, misogynistic prick self at his estate a few weeks ago, the last he’d seen of me was when I’d been a little physical with my condemnation the night I found him beating his wife…basically, when he was being an abusive, misogynistic prick. His beady little eyes had lit up with the anticipation of getting the chance to repay the favour on me, only for Parvan to break free of his captors’ hold and get a perfectly-aimed,gloriouspunch straight to the nobleman’s jaw.
Unfortunately that had redirected all the hits Parvan’s way instead of mine, and now my guard had a collection of darkening bruises around his face, in addition to the boot-shaped mark where Martinez had ordered one of his men to crush Parvan’s throat until he passed out. Well, he’d saiduntil the northern bastard breathes no more,but a hastily constructed lie on my part had bought Parvan the chance to at least wake up.
Which he’d just done, and wasn’t looking particularly happy about it.
“Did youwantto die?” I asked, nudging his ankle with the toe of my boot, which was all I could reach him with.
“I wantyouto live, my prince. And I fear…”
He trailed off as a shadow swiped overhead. I recognised its looming shape and didn’t need to turn around to know we were passing through the main gates ofla Cortina.A place we’d hoped to reach when we set off from Stavroyarsk with Ren and the others, but I’d expected it to be in a slightly better position than chained to a wagon like common prisoners. It wasn’t like we could pull off our plan of forcing Yanev’s – and Navar and Welzes’ – truths out into the open when we had neither a Hearken nor the freedom to move more than half a foot in any direction.
Parvan began coughing. Huge, racking coughs that made his whole body contract, and he doubled over as they forced more air from him.
“Water!” I called urgently. “He needs water!”
The wagon lurched to a stop and the back gate was unlocked and heaved open. But the hands that reached inside bore no water, and offered no kindness.
Instead, they unlatched our chains from where they’d been locked into the floor, and then we were both hauled ruthlessly from the wagon. Unable to get my feet beneath me in time, I fell heavily to the cobblestones of the palace’s outer courtyard, jarring my knee.
“Prince Nathanael.”
The voice was smooth, smug, and held the telltale lilt of a Lukian accent. I lifted my head to find Zidhan Welzes leering down at me, his wife Alondra hovering anxiously at his side.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snapped, and glanced over at Parvan, who was still trying to recover. “Is no one going to help him?”
Welzes’ mouth twisted as he followed my gaze. “Who evenishe?”
“Your Majesty,” said Lord Martinez imperiously, waddling over to us from his carriage. Parvan heaved in shaky breaths as he got his body under control. “Don’t you recognise the king consort of Temar?”
I tried to hide my amusement behind a scathing look of disgust. Martinez himself certainly hadn’t realised my desperate claim as to Parvan’s identity to be the lie it was, but I found it funny that he should be acting so haughty about it now.
The false king faltered and stared at my guard. The man regarded him back, equally as nonplussed about what was going on.
“This…is your father?” Welzes demanded of me.
I kept the disdainful expression in place. “My father’s long dead. This is Anton Velichkov, thesecondhusband of Queen Zora Velichkova. Do you not keep up with continental happenings at all?”
“Mind your tongue, young prince,” Councillor Navar admonished sharply, and my body turned rigid as I glared up at the man joining the impromptu crowd in the courtyard. If he’d met the real Anton, if he knew-
“Show some respect to your king and master,” he ordered, and realising that no one knew enough to challenge my lies or the life of my guard that relied on them, I let out an uneasy breath. Parvan remained silent, not understanding our conversation, and I could only thank Ren’s god that he was choosing not to interrupt as I undoubtedly would have in his position. If they realised he wasn’t royalty and held no value as a prisoner, they’d kill him without hesitation.
“We were travelling peacefully through your lands when we were unlawfully detained. We demand you release us back to our family,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. No one stopped me, although the soldiers closed ranks to prevent me from drawing any closer to their king. “And promptly, else my mother discovers your delay.”
Navar shrugged, raising and lowering one shoulder lazily and eyeing us both with vicious glee. “What’s one more upset northern whore?”
I scoffed. “You wish to go to war with both MazekhstamandTemar? Are you fucking insane?”
“I told you to be quiet,” he snapped, not seeming at all bothered at the prospect of so much death and destruction. He stroked a hand across the top of his bald head as if to admire its smoothness. “I doubt your bitch mother even wants you back,Your Highness. Word is that you were to be stripped of your familial ties and royal status after it was discovered you were bending over for our bastard false prince.”
I gave him a cold look, refusing to let the man know how true his words were. But there was no longer any doubt in my mind who was controlling who here: Welzes hadn’t uttered a word since the councillor had shown up.
“But first,” Navar continued slyly, “you’ll help us catch said bastard. For the safety of all Quarehians everywhere.”
Whatever that meant.
“As I told Martinez when he asked me ever so nicely,” I said flatly, “I don’t know where Ren is. We split up weeks ago.”
